


Refraction

by Teddog



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Ending, Bad end, Gaze Into The Abyss, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, That Was a Weird Joke For Even Me, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddog/pseuds/Teddog
Summary: The world within the singularity was dying. The sky dimmed, the winds ceased, the air tasted stale and the earth grew cold. Sanson was surprised his own existence hadn’t faded yet.Maybe they still had a hope of stopping the festering horror.---A speculative short story about the nature of Foreigners and a different way that Salem could have played out.
Relationships: Charles-Henri Sanson | Assassin & Robin Hood | Archer
Kudos: 13





	Refraction

**Author's Note:**

> This is very much a “What if?” story. The Imaginary Scramble event reminded me of some of the thoughts Robin and Sanson expressed back in Salem, which then sent me down one hell of a rabbit hole. The Imaginary Scramble spoilers that inspired me might not be canon later. Regardless, daydream with me for a moment.
> 
> **Content Warning:** Discussion of Christianity in the context of character beliefs. Gore. Character death. 
> 
> **Spoiler Warning:** Salem in general. Imaginary Scramble, mostly concerning how Foreigners interact with the Throne of Heroes.

The sun hadn’t risen over Salem in days. The significance wasn’t lost to Charles-Henri Sanson. 

The perpetual darkness followed the pattern of twisted religious references. While they gave him pause, Sanson was certain his own mental state wasn’t the intended target. He doubted the Demon Pillar cared about any beliefs he still clung to. 

No, the target was probably the town itself. The way the locals passionately spoke reminded Sanson of his younger self: unshakable faith that events were playing out as God intended. That outsiders noticed the signs was either an unforeseen benefit or the result of the Demon Pillar playing everyone as if they were pawns on a chess board. 

The more Sanson lay in bed and considered the situation, the more he leaned towards the former being the truth. 

There was no way a Demon Pillar could have planned this uncontrolled escalation. What convictions the town held didn’t matter now. This wasn’t a reenactment of the plagues of Egypt. No deaths of the first born would follow, although it would have given Sanson an easier escape from whatever hell awaited tomorrow.

The world within the singularity was dying. The sky dimmed, the winds ceased, the air tasted stale and the earth grew cold. Sanson was surprised his own existence hadn’t faded yet. 

Maybe they still had a hope of stopping the festering horror.

\---

_“Get up.”_

_Sanson squinted as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light. It bathed the bedroom in shades of pale yellow and pink, making Robin Hood’s cloak look more of a dull brown than the_ _Lincoln green_ _Sanson remembered._

_As Sanson slowly came to his senses, he grabbed his duvet tightly and froze in place. He had fallen asleep last night in the judge’s house. Robin shouldn’t be standing beside the bed and shaking him awake. The Archer should have been back at Carter’s home with the rest of the Chaldean team._

_“Why are you here?” Sanson said, rubbing his eyes._

_Robin waved towards Sanson, a signal to stay quiet. Whatever the Archer sensed was a mystery to Sanson. The rest of the house remained silent._

_Satisfied they were still alone, Robin leaned closer and whispered. “I’m kidnapping you. What does it look like I’m doing?”_

_Sanson scrunched up his face at the remark. Robin frowned back._

_Even as teammates, the two of them had never seen eye-to-eye. The last time they stood together lasted mere seconds. They repelled each other like magnets as soon as a crisis presented itself. Sanson charged directly into a wave of ghouls that threatened the local townsfolk. Robin snatched up the body of their dead teammate and ran into the forest._

_They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms._

_“It’s a long story,” Robin said, sighing under his breath. “You’re going to die if you stay here.”_

_“What are you talking about?” was the only confused reaction Sanson could manage._

_Robin groaned softly. The man had a talent for projecting his frustrations quietly if he needed to._

_“Let’s just say an ally predicted your death.”_

_The answer gave Sanson pause. While Robin was by no means a reverent man, he wasn’t cruel enough to joke about death or spit on graves._

_That was more than what Sanson could say about Matthew Hopkins. The judge should be still sound asleep in the next room over._

_There was an opportunity, if only for the briefest of moments._

_Sanson looked towards the bedroom door, then back at Robin. The Archer had a strange look on his face. It felt melancholic, reminiscent of the expressions Sanson saw on family members of the condemned. Whatever vision Robin was told about, it shook him deeply._

_“We need to grab something on our way out,” Sanson said as he pushed himself out of the bed._

\---

“Why are you awake?”

Sanson didn’t hear the creaking of the floorboards until Robin spoke up. The Archer looked like a silhouette against shadows if Sanson squinted. Otherwise, the demarcation between the two was impossible to see. 

“I’m mulling over our next steps,” Sanson said. He shuffled around in bed, rolling over to lay on his back. “How did you know I wasn’t asleep?” 

“Your breathing,” Robin stated directly, not bothering to give more details. “You need to sleep. Limit your mana usage.”

The endless night made time impossible to judge by standard measures. Sanson instead marked the passing hours by Robin’s shifting personality. The more breezy parts had been slowly extinguished, leaving behind a pragmatic saboteur focused on keeping the two of them alive on stolen time. 

That side of Robin had always existed, just beyond his outward persona. The growing uncertainty made it impossible for Robin to maintain the duality he normally juggled with ease. Not that Sanson had fared any better. 

“I haven’t felt a disruption in mana,” Sanson said. He wanted to add that there was no reason for concern. He knew that was a lie. 

“Then we’re in the worst case scenario.” 

Even without being able to see his face, Sanson knew that one of Robin’s last remaining embers of hope had been snuffed out. 

\---

_Robin led their escape from the judge’s house at first, cutting an impossible trail through the forest. Sanson struggled to keep up, dodging low hanging branches and clambering over tree roots, all while keeping a leather bound book tight against his chest._

_It wasn’t long until they found themselves at an impasse. Robin insisted they regroup with the rest of the team. Sanson demanded they research the grimoire they stole first._

_Birds filled the sky as their argument rang loudly through the trees._

_There was something very wrong about the book. Any servant could sense that by just looking at it. The magical presence was much larger than the book’s physical form. Standing in front of it was like looking over the edge of a bottomless chasm._

_They weren’t the only ones to notice its power. Hopkins wouldn’t shut up about it in the short time Sanson was with him. Saying he was obsessed would be understating the matter. According to Hopkins the town was plagued by witches and demons. The book could purge that evil. When Sanson pressed him on how one would lead to the other, the judge was at a loss for words._

_The only thing Robin and Sanson could agree on was no servant in their right mind should let their Master near such an artifact. Not without understanding it first._

_There was an abandoned farm Robin recalled passing on his way to the judge’s house. It wasn’t much, but it was quiet and remote. The rustic table and chairs they found in the kitchen would have to serve as a base of operations for now._

_“This passage mentions an infection called the Green Decay,” Sanson said, tapping at the page he just finished reading._

_“Sounds like a terrible nickname Billy would give me,” Robin snarked. “Green Decay, scourge of Sherwood and Antarctica!”_

_Against his better judgement, Sanson laughed at the joke._

_“The Green Decay is nothing like you,” Sanson explained, his eyes going back to the text. “It’s spread by an entity called The Inhabitant of the Lake. The infection eventually kills the victim and makes them a puppet of sorts. An undead minion controlled by the Inhabitant.”_

_“Sounds close enough to a poison to be me.” Robin leaned back in his chair. “It reminds me more of something else, though.”_

_Sanson nodded. “The ghouls.”_

\---

The bed shifted as the Archer climbed into the other side. Sanson didn’t hear him undress and assumed the man fell into bed, gear and all. It was too dark to confirm otherwise. 

“When did you feel it?” Robin asked. He spoke like he had no words to spare. 

“An hour or so ago,” Sanson said, reflecting at how much time had passed. “It felt like a candle had been snuffed out. Snuffed out wrong, somehow. The heat was gone while a light still remained.” 

“That’s a poetic description.” There was no inflection to hint if Robin’s comment was sarcastic or not. 

“I know what death feels like.” Sanson rested his right arm against his head and closed his eyes. “What I felt wasn’t that.”

\---

_“The Throne is mentioned here too.”_

_Robin lifted his head up from the table. “What do you mean?”_

_“You can find it on the right page, about halfway down.” Sanson turned the grimoire towards Robin. “There’s a paragraph that describes a record of great human deeds throughout history.”_

_“Isn’t this book about weird monsters from space?” Robin narrowed his eyes as he examined the page closely, then flicked through the next few pages. “What did you call them? Old Ones?”_

_“The two are related,” Sanson said, pulling the book back before Robin lost his page. “The text suggests that a person can become a host for these Old Ones by first swearing one’s loyalty to them, then committing a great atrocity with the intent to do an even greater good in the world.”_

_“The hell?” Robin rubbed the side of his head, pondering what Sanson had just said. “That sounds like intentionally making an Anti-Hero.”_

_“It doesn’t use that term,” Sanson said, tilting his head as he skimmed the book to confirm for himself. “I think you’re correct, though. It says that those circumstances should allow for the person to be listed in the record. When the spirit is summoned back to the world, they’ll be able to wield the powers of the Old One they swore a contract with.”_

_Robin folded his arms. “If anyone here qualifies as an Anti-Hero, it’s the judge.”_

_Hopkins. Sanson thought back to asking the judge how the grimoire would save Salem. He had taken Hopkins’s fumbled explanation at the time to be a lack of understanding. In truth, Hopkins didn’t want to confess what he was planning._

_Sanson slammed the book shut. “We need to find the others.”_

\---

“I expected an empty bed when I got back,” Robin said, his voice steady. There was the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric. Sanson imagined the man had turned towards him. 

“You seem calm at the thought of making your last stand alone.” Sanson rolled his head to face in Robin’s direction. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.” Sanson could hear the smirk that must have been on Robin’s face. It was a welcome change. “Anyway, it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

\---

_The first sign that something was terribly amiss in the forest was the dripping._

_Robin noticed it first. He grabbed Sanson’s shoulder, yanking the Assassin to a jolting halt._

_“No clouds or a river nearby.” Robin’s voice was barely audible. It took all of Sanson’s concentration to hear it. “There’s only so many places you can hide that much water out here.”_

_Sanson nodded silently and drew his sword. He let Robin take point._

_The texture of the ground shifted as they hiked deeper. It felt spongy, as if it had just rained heavily. The liquid bubbling up around Sanson’s dark boots was a deep red, not the murky brown he expected._

_There was a soft plop as something splattered to the ground in front of the two men. Sanson looked up. Shredded flesh and guard uniforms were strung through the surrounding tree branches like interwoven red and brown ribbons._

_The complete disregard for the victims’ dignity chilled Sanson to the core. He mumbled a prayer to any god that could hear him._

_Hopkins needed an atrocity. This would qualify._

_Robin’s cowl was pulled up high, hiding the lower half of his face. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in the scene as quickly possible._

_“I don’t sense anyone else alive here,” the Archer explained, his voice muffled by the cloth. “This is an aftermath, not a trap.”_

_“Criminals tend to linger near the scene of their crimes,” Sanson said, checking over his shoulders._

_“You’re assuming whatever did this is still human,” Robin said. He lowered his weapon and turned around. “Let’s go.”_

\---

Sanson pulled on his coat. The weight rested heavily on his back and shoulders. 

It was probably morning now, despite the lack of sun and sleep. The bedroom lantern flicked and waned, fighting a losing battle against the darkness leaking in from outside. 

“Did you find any signs of the others?” Sanson asked Robin. It was a formality. He could guess the answer, given Robin hadn’t said anything the night before. 

“Evidence of a throw down in the town square,” Robin said, still in the bed. “The whole side of a house was caved in. Lots of broken quills on the ground. No bodies.”

That was better than Sanson anticipated. He let out a sharp breath of relief. Maybe he hadn’t felt his connection to their Master change last night. 

“They must have figured out how the Green Decay spreads and attacked the Inhabitant’s quills,” Sanson speculated, his mind and heart racing. “Given the collateral damage, I would say Nezha was still with them.”

“Or Nezha was infected and blew up the house.” 

“But you didn’t find any bodies.” 

Robin grabbed hold of Sanson’s sleeve. He didn’t bother raising his head from the pillow. 

“Charles, they’re gone.” 

\---

_The farmhouse bedroom was staged as if it was intended for a performance. The bed was made with clean linens and personal belongings were thoughtfully scattered throughout the room. It contrasted with the overgrown fields just beyond the window and felt far too orderly to be real._

_“You never told me who used Clairvoyance.” Sanson rested on the bed, watching the cigarette smoke that spiraled up from where Robin sat on the floor._

_“Eh?” Robin lifted his head, peering over the edge of the mattress._

_“You told me an ally predicted my death when you came for me,” Sanson said. “Was everything else that happened today in that vision too?”_

_“I never said there was a vision.” Robin shrugged. “I just guessed. It wasn’t hard. You’re a hard-headed asshole, but a loyal one. You’d die before selling out the rest of us.”_

_The admission knocked the wind out of Sanson’s chest. Buried under Robin’s barbs was a hint of kindness and respect._

_“Thank you,” Sanson replied. He smiled, the weariness from the day’s events finally catching up with him. “That’s a polite way to describe a martyr complex.”_

_“I’d be insulting myself too if I called it that.” Robin looked away as he explained himself. “You still got that book?”_

_“I left it downstairs,” Sanson said. He didn’t bother pursuing Robin’s self assessment and took it at face value. There was nothing to be gained at this point by being critical of each other._

_“We should figure out a way to kill whatever the judge is now,” Robin said with a small nod._

\---

The sky outside was darker than anything Sanson had seen before. Dull ambient light from an unknown source cast the world in black and white. Dead grass snapped under their feet as they cut across the neglected field.

“Da Vinci hasn’t called in a strike yet?” Sanson half asked, half stated. The landscape still looked intact despite the unshakable sense of dread in the air. 

“Like she can see how dire things are here.” Robin sighed; it was cold enough that Sanson could see his breath. 

“Or the situation hasn’t affected the outside world yet,” Sanson countered.

“I would never peg someone as dour as you for an optimist.” Robin stopped walking and gave Sanson a hard look. 

Sanson rolled his eyes, not quite sure which part was the insult and which part was the compliment. If Da Vinci hadn’t made an intervention yet, they had a couple of options left. 

“We need to deal with Hopkins before he reaches beyond the singularity,” Sanson said. stuffing his hands in his pockets and glaring at the ground. “I remember reading in the grimoire that minions of the Inhabitant of the Lake can be destroyed by sunlight,” 

“Sure! Let me just shoot an arrow into the heavens and pierce that barrier! Problem solved!” Robin threw back his head and laughed. It sounded as pathetic as they looked now. 

Such was the existence of Heroic Servants remembered for their mundane deeds rather than their magic. Sanson looked back up again at Robin. 

“If that’s not an option, we’ll have to release the infected, followed by Hopkins himself.”

“Kill everyone the old fashioned way. Got it.” Robin’s expression was grim as he looked towards the town proper. 

“Let’s go to the depths of hell together,” Sanson said in agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I was working on a cuter fic before this plot bunny happened.


End file.
